


Vampire Sunrise

by gyromitra



Series: Reaper76Week stuff [7]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: (mild but still there), GUROish, M/M, Reaper76 Week, day 6: Alternate Universe / Timelines, sacrilegious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 05:00:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9419828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gyromitra/pseuds/gyromitra
Summary: Vampire politics or two old vampires *viciously* in love rekindling their old flame.





	

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. It has guro. Not gore in general, but guro. Mild, but still.  
> 2\. Sacrilegious (for different reasons).  
> 3\. Non linear - all time stamps measure from NOW.  
> 4\. Beta? What’s beta?  
> 5\. Dictionary at the end.
> 
> Overworked, sleep deprived, I promise I'll get back to those comments. Thank you everyone.

**Now:**

He stumbles past the doors, his legs collapsing under him as he searches for the purchase with his hands and finds none, knees hitting the marble, a pained groan finding its way from his mouth. There is a commotion at the entrance, words filtering through the relentless beat of his heart distributing poison through every cell of his body even with the blood loss, and his instincts are screaming at him to push forward, but he can’t, so he curls on himself, fingers clenching on torn blue cloak.

“Let me through! My sire is in danger!” Hana, sweet Hana, worried, screaming.

“The session is…”

“When was the last time they requested something?” Sombra, always knowing what questions to ask, not giving in to the same anxiety that grows in her with every thump of his traitorous heart. “When was the last time the session took that long?”

Jack sighs when the man steps aside. If it were Nightwatch guarding the Council, this wouldn’t have taken place, no screaming girl, not even his daughter, would be let inside, not through the main entrance, not until her words were confirmed, but she cradles his head on her lap now, wiping off blood from his face, and hollers for Mercy, so he closes his eyes and draws in a shaky breath.

“Abeoji, abeoji, look at me, oh, no, this is bad, what did they do to him?”

“Not ‘they’. Reaper. Entire Council is slaughtered,” Sombra is already barking orders to her agents and the Angel of Mercy, oh, how ironic this moniker is, forces his eyes open.

“Silver and mercury, fast. We should keep scarring to the minimum,” Mercy whispers, looking away to the side. There is a growl of annoyance covering uneasiness.

“Fuck, this is going to hurt,” he tries to remember whose voice it is but everything falls around him in grays, whispers and the sound of his heart, until there is warm flesh under his lips and a tinge of blood on his tongue. Jack bites and drinks with avidity of one dying of thirst until he is forced away.

“Oh, abeoji, abeoji,” Hana murmurs when his eyes start to focus and dark tracks of his veins pale, corners of her lips curling up discretely as she traces two deep lines on his face in a secret shared between all of them. “He put his mark on you, finally.”

“That he did,” Jack whispers and lets sleep take him over, his children standing guard.

 

**An hour earlier:**

The stench of rich blood in the air is intoxicating, but Jack sits with his palms on the table, the ebony dagger resting between his fingers and a smile playing on his lips. Gabriel stalks towards the last vampire trying to crawl away, the crunch of a skull under his heavy boot resonating in the chamber, and the blonde can only admire him, the red of life coating his face, claws, clothing, a glorious sight of an apex predator after its prey, crimson eyes focused only on him now, and, god, how does this make his head spin.

“Are you trying to impress me, Jibril? I think we’ve discussed the affairs of the Council few days ago.”

“Have we, my eagle?” Gabriel almost roars, close now, his thumb smearing bloody trail on Jack’s cheek, the heady smell making blue eyes flutter closed with excitement and arousal. The blonde half-raises from his seat, dragged rest of the way by strong arms and forced upon the table, a knee wedging between his legs, his back arching over the wood.

“Yes,” a hiss just as his throat is all but torn open by greedy fangs and clothes lay in tatters under the claws that do not mind cutting into his heated flesh. “Oh, Creator of Harmful, devour me, devour me all,” he rasps, his hands grasping at the shoulders above him with passion of a true believer. “Leave nothing behind, oh, Shaper of Beauty.”

This is how it always has been, in violence, blood, and taboo, in bodies torn and worshipped, and Gabriel grips his hair between fingers, other hand bringing the knife to his face as their bodies move in unison.

The first cut feels like fire lapping at his face and Jack welcomes the pain with a desperate whine.

“No one orders you, but me.” He is being admonished. Punished. Loved. So easily lost in the exhilarating moment that the second slash, crossing his lips, sends him over the edge.

“No one, but you,” Jack whispers, looking up with dutiful adoration. “No one, but you, ya hayati.”

“Do not forget that, ya amar.” And he is left alone, blood seeping into his eyes, to laugh in happiness, to marvel at the wondrous affection his beloved has gifted him even as a small needle pierces his skin.

 

**Four days earlier:**

He sits on the cold marble floor, his breath hitching with growing excitement, his back to the altar, hand idly resting on his own neck and eyes on the shadowy figure walking towards him down the aisle.

“You promised to behave, Reaper”

“This is foreplay,” he laughs.

“Believe me, I know.” The blonde draws his sword and holds the stance, glowing eyes regarding him over the naked blade gleaming dark.

“Ebony, huh? You get me the prettiest gifts, Morrison.”

“And you are lucky that Council is all tails between their legs after you left every member of the previous conclave skewered in the chambers.”

“Ya amar,” Gabriel stands up, fangs bared, “they tried to assassinate you. I had to nurse you back on my own blood.”

“There were other ways. Like not leaving me alone, for decades, believing you had perished.” The blonde’s words spit all the hurt simmering under his skin at him, a beautiful reminder he is a god, the Satisfier of All Needs - the War, the Slaughter and the Raven - in those blue eyes that hold the pain of rejection and the hope of renewed acceptance at the same time.

“But they sent you to me, my reward.” Jack’s form does not falter. “Or rather, a blood tribute.”

“They sent me to bring you back to heel.”

“Watch your words,” Gabriel comes closer. “You are one of mine.”

“Wouldn’t you like that to be true,” Jack moves, fast and deadly, efficient grace in his advance. Gabriel hisses at the cut on his cheek. “You had killed my sire, but that doesn’t make me yours.”

“But you make my blood boil, Nasr.” He licks his lips seeing how the blonde’s eyes narrow at the name.

“Please, spare me descriptions of what I do to your dick this time, Jibril,” Jack responds in kind.

“You make my groin stir with your devious beauty and your lying words harden me. The blue of your eyes, and your silks, whispers to me in the nights.”

But the dance is merely beginning and the second blood belongs to Jack too, a shallow cut on his arm, the blonde’s body gracefully snaking away from any and all harm, muscles playing under the cloth, far too much cloth for his liking, and his claws long to rend the flesh, to dress his moon in most precious reds.

Too long had he been away from life-giving tides of blood his moon sways in him.

His fist mars the porcelain skin, the jab faster than Jack can ever react, the dance cut short by his own desire, and the blonde withdraws, blade now poised to block, not to attack, lips parted and eyes dark with eagerness, breaths coming short not because of exertion but because of a promise his touch brings.

Hit after hit, cut after cut, he paints his moon red, until they meet in a devouring kiss – the testament of their burning hunger – Jack climbing the altar guided by his touch.

“Mine, ya amar, you are,” Gabriel growls into his ear, claws resting over taut stomach.

“You lost that right when you left me to grieve you, Jibril,” the challenge – the spite – shines in blue eyes and the ebony blade breaks in his grip, the jagged edge thrust into the shoulder, driven into wood of the altar below the cloth. The hoarse scream that meets him, Gabriel drinks straight from the cup of the lips.

“Mine,” he repeats viciously as pale hands clench around the blade, their grip failing as wood becomes slicked with more blood.

“No! I am no more!” The blonde snarls at him, and then howls as the other shoulder is pinned down in the same way, the crunch of breaking bones audible over the desperate cries of pain. “You have no claim.”

“Then I shall reclaim what is mine, ya amar,” Gabiel promises as he climbs over him and straddles his hips, claw ghosting between Jack’s collarbones.

“You can try,” comes the defiant response and the claw digs deeply, moves slowly downwards, scraping the bone below as the younger vampire bites his lip whimpering, then bites through it when softer flesh of his stomach yields. Slender fingers tangle and tear at the altar cloth soaking red.

“Let me love you, macnia, let yourself be mine,” he whispers as he peels away layers of skin and muscle aside to the accompaniment of panicked, gulping whines. His hand ventures into the damp warmth, ripping the membranes, ripping something else, and the blonde’s legs kick behind him. “Let me hear you, ya amar.”

“No,” fevered and repeated as Gabriel curls fingers of his other hand around the exposed sternum and slowly crushes it between his fingers, ribs splintering and breaking, fragments spearing the struggling lungs as thrown away bone clatters on the marble floor. For a moment, he lightly brushes the brow of his moon with affection.

“A sight to behold,” he murmurs, and then gently his hands curl below the beating heart. The blonde’s eyes roll back, blood dribbling from his mouth with every shuddering and wheezing exhale. “I hold you between my fingers, ya amar.” Gabriel dips his head and the kiss he presses to the straining muscle is full of reverence. “You are mine.”

“…yours…” Comes the inaudible rasp.

Later, entwined with him, Jack breathes into his neck.

“Stay, ya hayati.”

“Maybe, ya amar.”

 

**Three days earlier:**

Jesse throws the cloak over him, chuckling, his eyes, like always, shadowed by dark circles of exhaustion and sleep deprivation.

“I take it went well?”

“Spectacularly so.” Jack nibbles on his fingers, teeth scraping dried blood off, tongue meticulously licking his own skin.

“A new Council, who could have expected it, so soon, such tragedy,” Jesse rolls his eyes. “Good you know what makes him tick, boss.”

“Do I? Reaper does as Reaper wants, always,” the vampire laughs and ruffles dhampir’s hair. Jesse’s face scrunches in dislike.

“Shit, boss, you smell like a butcher’s, and you’re sticky. I’ll need a shower now, and Mercy put me on diet again.” Jesse nods towards the car waiting. Jack sighs as his bare feet leave bloody imprints in the snow. “Fuck, I really feel sorry for the upholstery.”

“It can be cleaned,” the blonde lingers, eyes on the church for a second – on the shadow with glowing red eyes – then he takes a seat inside. “Have Sombra pull younger agents from assignments where there is a possibility they may come close. No need to lose anyone.”

“How long?” The engine purrs to life.

“Two weeks at most. It will feel good…”

“Good to have Nightwatch finally at the helm, since Daywatch are a bunch of sniveling, self-centered and corrupt pussies who only care about blood, power and fancy parties?”

Jack laughs.

“Your words, not mine. By the way, Jesse, Genji is going to make sure you get enough sleep. We will need you well rested and fed, if he goes feral. Carry quicksilver and the colloid, together should at least tire him out. If not, it will still prove useful.”

“Before or after he rips my throat off?”

“Don’t worry. I will only need the antidote for myself,” Jack stretches on the seat, fingers fleeting over the disappearing scars on his stomach and chest. “Put Amelie on my detail, she will know when to make herself scarce.”

“She hates you,” Jesse snorts. “You’re lucky she adores Hana and Sombra.”

Jack closes his eyes briefly – soft smile on his lips.

“And how is my daughter?”

“She called yesterday and threatened to stake you herself if you don’t get it on with him well and proper because you’re an insufferable prick if you’re not getting any. Genji told her to stuff it. She threatened to have Sombra hack him. I told her to piss off,” Jesse relates, keeping his eyes on the road. “She told me to suck a dick and that she’s coming back, because she won’t miss your big day. If there were no delays, she should be already here.”

“That’s my girl.”

“Boss. Are all of yours crazy shits?”

“I like them this way. Hanzo?” Jack wonders briefly if he should maybe stay like he is now for the night, reveling in the smell and feel of blood on his body, a rare luxury, even if most of it is his own.

“Our favorite hunter checked in, still in Boston, and he tracked the killer, he says, boss.”

“Here’s to hoping he doesn’t kill him. I’d love to recruit him. Anyone that has been killing old vampires that long must be really talented.”

Jesse sighs.

“You and your micromanaging.”

“I guess.”

 

**Two days later:**

“I believe this calls for a celebration!” Hana links her fingers with Sombra and Amelie just as the doors close after the messenger. “Your big day, abeoji! Let us toast the Head of the new Council, our sire!”

“Our Commander,” Sombra adds.

“And the Nightwatch,” Amelie smiles satisfied.

“Let us bring an age of peace, order and harmony,” Jack envelops his daughters in a gentle embrace.

**Author's Note:**

> Little dictionary:  
> abeoji - respectful old people way of saying father  
> ya hayati - my beloved (my life)  
> ya amar - my beloved (as beautiful as the moon)  
> Nasr - Eagle  
> macnia - young warrior


End file.
